Why Harry Hates Dumbledore
by Feerique-Freak
Summary: a one shot. ever since azkaban i've believed dumbledore is an arse. this is a possible reason why.
1. part 1

The only reason this is in two parts is because it was too big to be one part. Stupid computers. This could be a companion piece to Hermione's Flat. if you are reading it for that reason, only read after bit 9. Otherwise you know too much about MyHarry too quickly. If you don't care about Hermione's Flat, no big deal. * are for quotes taken from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. I know it's disturbing, but it did say rape in the opening thing. And slash. So people that don't like either, please go away. (and go read Hermione's flat, in which I just added a Draco/Harry sex scene. :P) takes place in 6th year.

Harry sighed. After getting back from another wretched summer with the Dursleys, he was back in the common room, having gotten there with the password 'Feerique Freak'. He didn't know what a Feerique was, but he didn't care, for the first time in weeks he was happy. He was perfectly content with a full stomach, the first time he had eaten an entire meal in weeks, and it was due to the fact he had been able to see Ron. Ron, oh lord, how hard it was to not think of him as His Ron, had been away on a mission for the Order. Charlie, in Romania had asked if the person who had been closest to Norbert could come out, and since Hagrid was out with Olympe, Ron had chosen to go, and spare Hermione, as Harry couldn't go. That slightly annoyed him, not even being asked if he wanted to go, only finding out when his letter to Ron had been unreturned, and Hermione had sent a inconspicuous brown owl telling Harry he wouldn't be able to reach Ron.

And when he got to platform 9 and ¾ and Ron wasn't with Ginny, and the rest of the loving family that had no reason to come, but always did anyway, Harry almost passed out. He, though he was young, certainly knew the dangers of fighting Voldemort, and though he didn't know Ron's orders exactly, he was doing it for the Order, and the Order was fighting Voldemort, so Ron therefore was fighting Voldemort. He could be dead, easily. Harry started hyperventilating, and he fell to his knees on the floor. All the Weasleys, along with a lot of the Gryffindors ran over. He panted out "Ron… dead…?"

Fred and George each grabbed him by an elbow, and pulled him up off the floor. Mrs Weasley hugged him and the twins as one, and said "No, Harry, never!"

"not… here…"

"He's still with Charlie, mate" Fred started.

"but he'll be at Hogwarts within a few weeks." George finished.

So, Harry, for 2 weeks, could barely eat, and couldn't sleep, all his dreams were about a wave of red hair, and a flash of green light, and a cruel voice whispering Avada Kedavra. But then, one night, as the enchanted ceiling black with barely disconcernable clouds flashed with lightning, a dripping wet figure walked in the door. Hermione screamed out "Ron!" and Hermione, Harry and Ginny ran over to him. He wouldn't talk about what he and Charlie had done, but it must have been something bad, because he had scratches all over his body.

Ron was weak, and absolutely exhausted, and after wheezing out a "Hi, guys." he started to feel dizzy. He had three people to lean against, and he had picked Harry. Harry knew it didn't mean anything, but he still felt honoured that his love would rest on him. Dumbledore and Mcgonagal had taken their time walking over to the 4, they may have sensed the teens needed their time together, but when they saw the condition he was in, they morally had to take him to the hospital wing. 

Ron didn't want to go, he hadn't been with anyone he loved for months, so he clung to Harry. 

"Mr Weasley, you have to go to the hospital wing. Madame Pomphrey will want to look at those scars, she has excellent spells to remove them, you don't want to look that that forever do you?" Mcgonagall said to try to get Ron to leave, but Ron wasn't moving.

Hermione gave it a try. "Ron, don't be a prat. We can come with you, if you really want to be with us that badly, but you must go to the hospital wing."

Ron started to cry on Harry's shoulder. No one understood. He didn't want to go anywhere, he wanted to stay with the people he loved. Hermione, his only girl friend, Harry, the boy who had saved him and the entire world time and time again, and Ginny, a family member he could trust.

Harry pulled away from him. As much as he loved Ron being dependant on him, it made him feel like they were together, and he knew they wouldn't be together. So, he pulled away, and said "Ron, you have to go to Madame Pomphrey to get fixed up."

Dumbledore, who put his hand on Ron's shoulder, and was trying to lead him to the hospital wing, was stopped again. Ron had grabbed Ginny's empty hands. "Ginny, tell them I'm ok, that I don't need to leave you guys."

"Look, Ron, we'll come see you, we promise, but you're hurt, you have to go to the Hospital wing."

So Ron had stayed there for nearly three weeks, and Harry's heart ached. For one thing, he had to go to classes, so he couldn't be with Ron all the time, though between him, and Hermione, and Ginny, and the rest of the Weasley family, and even members of the Order, like Tonks and Remus, he was never alone.

Another thing was, they had healed him really badly in Romania. So badly that when Madame Pomphrey magically scanned him, she saw his ankle was still half broken, and that eventually the hastily mended scars would pop open again. So, she had to use a spell to reverse all of his previous healing, and start it again. When Harry came in, he had decided to skip class to be with Ron, it was right at the point she had undone all past healing. He saw His Ron covered in gaping wounds and writhing in pain, screaming, before passing out. Without remembering the past ten minutes, he found himself in Dumbledore's office, shackled to the wall, Filch standing there smiling dirtily.

"What did I do?"

"Argus, can you please leave the room? I would like to speak to Harry alone."

"What if he attacks you?"

"He may be the boy who lived, but he's not faster then a man of experience. Leave, please."

When Filch left, Harry asked again "What did I do?"

"You were walking into Madame Pomphrey's ward, when she preformed a spell that caused Ron to be in great pain. This distressed you, for you tackled Poppy, and started punching her. Before she could Stun you, you stepped on her wand. She did however, yell loud enough that someone in a nearby hall heard, and immediately ran to get me. Luckily, I wasn't in my office yet, and she didn't need to know the password, which, as I expect you might need it, I may as well tell you is Rolos, a wonderful type of Muggle candy. When I tried to pull you off her, you bit me, so I had to restrain you, until you calmed down. Argus was kind enough to provide me with shackles, but I daresay you're calm enough to be let out. From now on, when you go to visit Ron, someone has to accompany you."

But, Ron got better, and his scars disappeared, and the year progressed. As Ron never talked about what he had done in Romania, it soon became almost forgotten, and Harry never got the scene he wanted, holding Ron again, as Ron laid on his shoulders. As much as he felt bad for Ron, he couldn't deny he loved Ron trusting him. 

He loved looking at Ron, the way his fluffy red hair waved every time he moved his head, the way his voice had finally become deeper, and he was now SO manly, it broke his heart. No one that manly could possibly be gay. No, in any of the magazines Harry had discretely bought, and in all of the not perverted 'drink my piss' stuff online, he didn't like the perverted stuff, it was always skinny small boys like him. There were never any possible Ron's in the crowd of forgettable faces.

But, Harry didn't sleep anymore. Well, that was a bit of an exaggeration, but not much. Ever since he was a child, used to getting up over an hour early to make Dudley's breakfast, and staying up to late hours of the night, doing chores, he didn't need much sleep. Maybe about 5 hours a night. But now, it was much worse. Ever time he dreamed, it was either about Sirius, or Cedric, and he couldn't stand the guilt of the fact that he killed them. He maybe slept 4 days a week, and for only about 3 hours, then he would wake up, and cry for about a hour, before going to the common room. 

Except, lately, he hadn't been going to the common room. He had been sitting up, and looking at Ron through the undrawn curtains. It wasn't like he got a sick thrill out of voeyurism, he didn't even do anything besides look at Ron. It was just that, Ron looked like so many strong steady things, and Harry, besides loving Ron, yearned for steady strong truths. Not to say he didn't want to shag Ron, he wanted to do anything and everything to him, but Harry wouldn't push himself on Ron, not after being friends for just over 5 years.

Then Harry found out Professor Dumbledore wanted Harry to continue on with his Occlumency lessons. Harry, of course, didn't want to. He hated Snape, and he hated occlumency, and all the things it reminded him of. Not only the things in his past, the events that had occurred last year, every time he even heard the word occlumency, he knew it was his fault that Sirius was dead. Well, it wasn't like he ever forgot it was his fault Sirius was dead, but he did sometimes forget to remember about Sirius being dead. Things like black dogs and the hill near Hogsmede that they had gone by in fourth (AN, I'm pretty sure it was 4th year) year, they all reminded him of Sirius. Plus, it would send Harry through a stream of bad memories, and he was positive they would be added on to all the old ones.

And so, Harry's Thursdays were utterly miserable. He saw Cedric, he saw Sirius, he saw his arm being sliced open by Wormtail, he saw Dudley and Peirs and the rest beating on him.A-can't talk, or B-doesnt want to talk. 

But one Thursday, in mid-January, he saw snippets of a memory he could not remember. _Harry wandered out of his cupboard carefully. He was almost positive that Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley were in their rooms asleep. It was after 3 in the morning, they should be asleep. He went into the computer room. He wanted to go on chat again, people were so friendly online, no one knew he was only allowed a shower twice a week, no one wouldn't talk to him because they were being threatened by Dudley. Except, he was only 98% sure they were all asleep, and as it turned out, Vernon was awake. Harry saw he was looking at that disgusting stuff online, and closed almost closed the door. He couldn't close it fully, because if he did, it would make a clicking noise, and Uncle Vernon would know that someone had been up._

"Potter, what on earth was that?" Snape asked

"I don't know. I don't remember it as being a bad memory. That was the first time I had seen it!"

Snape blanched. "Are you sure?"

"Yes! I think I would remember seeing that kind of sick crap!"

"Potter, I think we should stop the lessons."

"Why? I want to know what that was. Could it be a memory of a bad dream, or 

something?"

"Yes, I'm sure that's it."

"I'll be here next Thursday."

"Potter."

"I need this!"

"Fine, Potter, but don't blame me for your disturbing images."

The next Thursday he went back to the dungeons, and the first memory that came up, was one that shouldn't have come up, and it was strange. It shouldn't have been a bad memory, so it shouldn't have been attracted to the spell, and it wasn't how Harry remembered it. _he knew he was having sex with someone, he could obviously feel it. He was the bottom, but he didn't see the beginning of the memory, so he didn't know who the top was. He had his eyes closed, and seemed to be crying, though he didn't know why. The sex didn't feel great, but it wasn't horrible, it certainly shouldn't have made him cry. Unless… maybe he was crying from happiness? But it was supposed to be a bad memory, so that couldn't be right. He heard a rattling noise, so he looked up. *He opened his eyes. Moonlight was shining through the bars on the window. And someone was goggling through the bars at him: a freckle-faced, red-haired, long nosed someone. Ron Weasley was outside Harry's window.* Ron opened his mouth to say something and_

"No more, Potter! I will not subject you to this anymore. Get out of my dungeon! I don't want to see you back here!"

"But Professor Snape, Dumbledore wants me to continue, why don't you want to teach me?" it wasn't so much that he cared about what Dumbledore wanted, and it wasn't so much that he was upset Snape didn't want to teach him. Actually, he was pretty happy about that.

The thing that bothered him, is why did he have all these memories he couldn't remember? Something was up, and Snape, judging by the shifty eyes, and blanched skin, knew what it was.

"I'm 16, I have the right to know what's going on. Dumbledore promised me last year, no more secrets. You have to tell me what's going on!" Harry whined.

"Potter, you know what you should know. Anything more, would change everything you thought about yourself. You do not need to know, you should not want to know, and if you were told, you would immediately wish you hadn't asked. Go to your common room."

"Tell me!"

"I will start taking points off your house."

"Tell me!"

"50."

"Tell me"

"100."

"Tell me!"

"500."

Harry blanched. He ran from the room. If Snape, the greasy git, wouldn't tell him, maybe Dumbledore, or one of the other teachers would.

He went to Dumbledore's office. "Rolos."

The door opened, and he went to Albus. "Professor, tell me why I have alternate memories for the things that happened during my summer between level 2 and 3."

"Harry, I'm afraid I can't do that."

"You said last year…"  


"I know what I said last year. The fact remains, if I told you, you would be appalled, and I can absolutely, 100 percent assure you not knowing will do nothing to hurt you or people around you."

Harry stalked out of the room, getting more and more mad on his walk to the common room. By the time he reached the potrait, he was so furious that he punched the stone wall several times.

"Harry, what are you doing?"

Harry hadn't seen anyone in the common room, his anger was a haze that drowned out anything else, but it was only 7:30, the room was full of people.

"Hermione, I need you to do a spell on me."

"Care to tell me why you were breaking your knuckles on the wall?" Ron asked.

"It has to do with the spell I need Hermione to do."

"You know, Madame Pomphrey is really a much better healer. I shouldn't heal your broken knuckles, she should."

"Yeah, trust me, you DON'T want her to have to remend them." Ron reminded Harry.

"Yah, I know, that's not it. Hermione, I need you to do a spell on me, or find another spell that would be easier to work, that you could use on me?"

"Like what? I'm not just going to do any random spell on you."

"I need you to perform the occlumency spell on me."

"Why? I thought Snape did all of that."

"No, he's refusing to do it, now that I want to see this memory."

"Harry, you're not trying to beat yourself up by seeing Sirius, are you? Cause, I don't know how many times I have to tell you-"

"No, Ron, it's nothing to do with him. You know when you and Fred and George came to pick me up? Well, in my occlumency, it came up, but with a different part to it. And the Thursday before, I had memories I've never seen before."

"Well, I don't know what to say about me and the twins coming to pick you up, but don't you think you could have just forgot whatever it was?"  


"No, trust me, it was something I would remember. Hermione, you have to help me figure out why I have alternate memories. Please?" Harry pleaded.

"Fine, it might take a few days though."

About a week later, Harry saw Hermione again. She had spent almost her entire waking hours looking for a spell for Harry, as she was honoured he trusted her enough to ask her.

"It's a spell for image recapitulation! You have to pick a flat wall for a receptor, and it projects you images onto the surface!" 

Ron asked, "Would you mind repeating that, in English, please?"

"In lamens terms, you pick a memory you only remember a fragment of, and it shows the entire thing on the nearest flat surface, like a tabletop or a wall. It doesn't just show the memory, however, it shows things around it that people would need to know. For example, say you committed a murder then later on couldn't remember doing it, so you performed this. Well, the spell would not only show the murder, it would show you your feelings as you did it, what lead up to it. Its rather like narrator in a television program."

"Television?" Ron asked, but Harry understood.

"Do you want us to stay, or should we leave?"

"Well, its not that I don't trust you, but they are my private memories." and not that Harry believed Snape was a good teacher, or anything, but if it would change the way Harry would look at himself, did he really need his two best friends, including a boy he had a crush on, seeing it?

"We get it."

"Yeah, come see us in the library when you're done."


	2. part 2

Just to remind you, anything with * are passages from the actual book. Italics are the memories.

Hermione, the ever competent, had written the spell, and the way of pronouncing it. Harry went to the 6th year bedroom, and locked the door. He laughed a bit, seeing a picture of his 12 year old self, he couldn't believe he had ever been that small or innocent.

__

Harry huddled in his room. He didn't know what Dursley would do to him, but he was frightened by the look in his eyes. Oh damn it, if only that house elf hadn't smashed that damn pudding. That might have even ended ok, if it wasn't for Mafalda Hopkirk. He would curse her for the rest of his life, she totally screwed him over. He had seen Vernon mad before, but the look in his eyes was something new. He had heard Dursley on the phone before, and seen the pages he went to on the internet, Harry didn't sleep much, and he usually wandered the house while the 3 were sleeping. A lot of the time Vernon wasn't sleeping. The only time that Vernon ever had that Look was while he was satisfying himself while on the phone, or looking at that crap online. But now he had that Look when he looked at Harry. Oh, Harry was desperately afraid. And it's not like he could threaten Dursley with his wand, none of them were scared of him anymore, damn that stupid woman for sending him that note. 

He thought back to just a few hours ago. 

*"you didn't tell us you weren't allowed to use magic outside school," said uncle Vernon, a mad gleam in his eyes. "forgot to mention it…slipped your mind, I daresay…"

He was bearing down on Harry like a great bulldog, all his teeth bared. "well, I got news for you, boy…I'm locking you up…you're never going back to that school…never…and if you try and magic yourself out-they'll expel you!"*

He was worried about the look, and the horrid smile. He didn't care that Dudley laughed at him, and he didn't care that Aunt Petunia was absolutely furious with him. He did care, however about what that smile could mean, and if it did mean something bad, how was he supposed to contact Ron or Hermione for help? Uncle Vernon wouldn't let him let Hedwig out.

It was after 1 in the morning when Uncle Vernon came in his room. He had that wicked smile, the one Harry had seen late at night, when he was online. Harry gulped. If only he had his wand, he didn't care about getting expelled, he could live with Ron, right? But Vernon had stolen it from him.

"Boy, I don't know what I'm going to do with you. You ruined my business deal, and I'm constantly wasting money on you that could go to Dudley. You should be ashamed of yourself, denying Dudley the things he desperately needs, while you get things."

Harry raised his eyebrows. It took all his willpower not to burst out laughing, because, though what he was saying was ridiculous, he knew he couldn't make Vernon mad at him.

"Kneel on the bed, back to me, boy."

"What? No!" Harry yelled. He didn't want to follow any of Uncle Vernon's orders, Uncle Vernon would make him stand in a stance where he couldn't fight back, and beat him. He had done it in the past.

He stomped over, and wrenched Harry out of the bed. Harry started kicking at Vernon, and yelling, like he was 5 instead of 12, but Vernon was strong, and fat, and was able to overpower Harry easily.

"Harry, don't make me do that again!" he said forcefully.

Harry thought of running, but to where? There was nowhere for him to go, no way for him to escape what he knew was going to happen. Uncle Vernon was going to beat the crap out of him, and he had no way to fight back.

Except, that's not what happened, it was something much much worse. And Harry tried to scream, if Petunia heard, she would come, and Vernon wouldn't do this in front of her, but Vernon punched him in the jaw, then shoved his fist in his mouth. Vernon's pudgy right arm was wrapped around Harry's thin stomach, and held him close to him.

Harry tried to kick out at Vernon, he didn't care if he would get beaten up, just not this. But he couldn't get away, and Vernon thrust in, and along with other things, Harry's innocence was ripped from him. He couldn't scream, but he doubled over in pain, which made himself impale himself more, until Vernon yanked him up by his right arm. He bit down on Vernon's fist, because god it hurt, and Vernon laughed.

The next day, when the workers came to put in the bars, Harry was curled up, still in pain, on his bed. They started to ask Mr Dursley what was wrong with the child, but he shook his head and gave them an extra 20 pounds, and they didn't ask. They did, however, notice the blood on the carpet, and a huge bruise on Harry's jaw. One of the workers, when Vernon's back was turned, whispered the Kid Help Phone number to Harry, but Harry said nothing.

It became a normal thing, at all times of the day, Vernon would slip into Harry's room, and Petunia never mentioned it, because, after all, whatever was happening behind the closed door was making Vernon stop harassing her for sex, and she never enjoyed it, so lack of it made her quite happy. 

Harry didn't fight it, how could he? The one time he had, he had kicked at and bitten Vernon, and tried to squirm away, Uncle Vernon had tied him to a bed with Petunia's old pantyhose, and beat him with a belt, before doing what he was going to do anyway. It was pointless.

The one thing that bothered him most, wasn't actually what was happening. It was the fact that sometimes, when Vernon hit a certain spot, it sent a bolt of pleasure through him. That was what made him cry when Uncle Vernon was doing that to him, not the pain, though it did hurt. a lot. Vernon didn't use condoms or lubrication, said it ruined the naturalness of it. THERE WAS NOTHING NATURAL ABOUT IT!

One night, maybe about 8 days after the letter from that goddamn cunt Mafalda Hopkirk, she was the reason this was happening to him, and maybe about 25 or 30 rapes later, he heard a rattling noise, so he looked up. He knew by now that it wasn't Petunia or Dudley at the door, they both completely ignored it, and he wasn't sure if Dudley even understood what Vernon was doing.

*He opened his eyes. Moonlight was shining through the bars on the window. And someone was goggling through the bars at him: a freckle-faced, red-haired, long nosed someone. Ron Weasley was outside Harry's window.* Ron opened his mouth and said "Hi Har- oh my god! What the hell?"

He could hear the twins say, "what, Harry have a little night time wood?" And he heard the squeal of leather against rubber, which must have been them climbing over the back seat.

"Hey Har-"

"Hey Har-"

Apperantly what Vernon was doing shocked them all. And he kept on going, because he was sort of hard of hearing, and hadn't heard Fred or George or Ron say anything.

Ron tied a rope to the bars, and Fred backed up the car, all without a word, and because hearing cars was a normal thing on their street, Vernon kept chugging along, as the three stared in horror, and Harry started blushing, and wished the bed would open up and swallow him whole.

He only stopped once the bars were wrenched out of the wall, with a screeching, scraping noise.

As Ron Fred and George climbed in the window, Vernon stood up and bellow "Who the hell are you?"

Fred yelled back "What the hell were you doing to Harry?"

"I dunno Fred, it looked pretty fucking obvious to me what he was doing. If only I remembered that castrating spell. It was only supposed to be used on animals, but this pig qualifies, I'm sure."

Ron just stood there gaping.

George went on calmly, "We're taking Harry's things, and bringing him to our house. Where is your trunk Harry?"

He spoke for the first time. "Locked underneath the stairs. I'm not allowed to use any of it."

"Ron go get his stuff." Ron practically ran out of the room. Harry curled up in the corner of his bed, naked, and horribly embarrassed.

"What makes you think I'll let him go?"

"My brother might not remember the castrating spell, but I do. Do not tempt me."

"You're not allowed to use magic over break." Vernon replied, happy to trump these nasty little red heads that had ruined his time with his toy.

"Oh, honestly, you think I care about that? Not likely, Dursley."

At that moment, Ron came back, with the trunk dragging behind him. He picked it up, and threw it into the idleing floating car.

"Harry come on." George said.

He shook his head. He didn't want to get up, and show his naked beaten torn body

to the older brothers of his best friend. Its not like they would want to see this disgusting image of him.

Fred walked over, and held his hand out. Harry shook his head no. "Why not?" Fred asked.

"He wants to stay with me." Vernon said. "That little bitch likes it."

George stuck his wand tip into Vernon's throat. "You say one more word, Dursley, and I swear, I don't know what spell will come out of my mouth, but it won't be a spell that makes flowers, trust me."

"I'm ugly."

Fred shook his head, and soothed, "It's not your fault. Whatever's on your body, isn't your fault."

Harry looked from Fred to Vernon. He hated himself, and he knew the Weasleys would too, for him being such a loser, but it's better to have someone hate you then have someone rape you. He took Fred's hand, and him and George helped him into the car.

Fred sat in the back, talking quietly with Ron, who was still blushing a vibrant red. George was sitting in the front seat, driving. After about 5 minutes, they seemed to realise Harry was still naked, and George took off his shirt. "You can put this on, Harry."

He couldn't say anything. When the car landed on the Burrow's front lawn, he didn't say anything. And when Molly Weasley ran out the front door screaming at the three boys, he didn't say anything, just tried to hide behind Ron, who was much taller then him.

It took her a moment to see him, and when she did she sounded motherly, as always. So she didn't hate him yet. She would soon though. "Harry, where's your pants?"

"mom." Ron said, trying to stop her flow of words.

"Why do you have a bruise on your face?"

"Mom." Fred said.

"Harry are you ok?"

"MOM!" George yelled.

"What?"

"He doesn't need this right now. Can we please go inside, and he can go lay down?"

"Ok, of course Harry, dear."

Harry didn't want to lie down. Beds reminded him of That, carpet reminded him of That, god, even seeing someone's hand curled into a fist reminded him of That.

But Harry would follow their orders, he wanted to do as much as he could for them, so when they finally realised what a sick boy he was, they might remember the good things, and not hate him.

As he walked up the stairs, he heard Mrs Weasley ask George, "Why is he wearing your shirt?"

He didn't stay to hear the answer. Hours later, he was woken up, put into a full body bind, and flooed to Hogwarts. Since he was unlucky enough to have been sleeping when the bind was placed on him, his eyes stayed closed as he woke up. Also, he had slept with his mouth closed, so he couldn't scream, though he was terrified, and thought he had become blind.

But, Harry was rational boy, and decided if he couldn't see what was going on, he would listen as hard as he could. Someone came in, and spoke to him, in the way to speak to sleeping people at the hospital^. "Oh you poor boy, everything seems to happen to you doesn't it. Well, soon you won't remember, you'll have no idea that this particular misfortune has been placed upon your head. So many people love you, I know things will work out fine." having spent a lot of time in the hospital wing just weeks ago, because of the battle for the philosopher's stone, he soon recognised the voice as Madame Pomphrey's.

He could hear her footsteps walk out of the room. Later, there was no way to judge time with your eyes closed, though it seemed like a extremely long time, because he couldn't move, he heard more footsteps. He could hear someone who could only be Mrs Weasley say, "Three of my boys in the wing, and a surrogate son having all that done to him. What can you do, Professor, to help him recover? I still don't understand why you put Ron and the twins in the body bind curse too."

"Mrs Weasley, what we are going to do for Harry will require your help." Oh, where had Harry heard that voice before?

"Of course, I'd do anything to help him, the poor boy."

"We will keep him here until his body recovers, and then oblivate him, along with your boys. We will then feed them false memories."

"But won't they eventually remember?"

"The closer to real memories they are, the less of a chance they will remember the real thing. In this case, they will be quite similar. Fred, Ron and George will go pick Harry up, except 3 days after Mafalda Hopkirk sent him the letter, not 8. They will pick him up in the flying car, and will be greeted by you yelling at them. The only major difference is they all will think Mr Dursley had been physically abusing him, 

instead of sexually abusing him. Poppy can make it so there are no visible scars on his body from it. The only thing you have to do, along with the rest of your family, is make sure you never let it slip that it was 5 days, not three. Make sure he doesn't see a newspaper for awhile, and he'll enjoy himself so much at your house, he'll forget the date, and it won't bother him anymore."

"Ok, I hate lying to my children, but I will, for Harry's sake."

Harry tried desperately to recognise the voice who had said that, what professor was it that was going to decieve him, if only he could write it on his hand or something, leave some sort of clue for himself. As much as he hated what had happened, hated himself for letting it happen, it wasn't something he just wanted to brush off, and forget.

"You've, of course done something to make sure it doesn't happen when he gets sent home for next summer break."

They were going to send him back there? How could they, they knew what had happened!

"Yes, I've put him under a spell that's made sure he'll for one, never be sexually attracted to anyone, and for a second, made him unable to become erect, so even if he did want to do something, he couldn't."

This wasn't Snape, it wasn't Mcgonigal, it wasn't Sprout, who in the hell could it be?

They left the room then, and Harry lied there, desperately trying to think of who it could be, and a plan so he could still remember later.

But maybe a day later, footsteps came in the room, and he still hadn't figured anything out. He heard the person come right over to him, and the wandtip being pressed onto the top of his forehead.

"obliviate."

Harry felt his stomach turn a bit. This couldn't be right, could it? But then he remember why he was here, being starved by the Dursleys, until the twins had come to rescue him.

*"It was cloudy, mom!" said Fred.

You keep your mouth closed while you're eating!" Mrs Weasley snapped.

"They were starving him, mum!" said George.

"And you!" said Mrs Weasley, but it was with a slightly softened expression that she started cutting bread and buttering it for him.

At that moment there was a diversion in the form if a small redheaded figure in a long nightdress, who appeared in the kitchen, gave a small squeal, and ran out again.

"Ginny," Ron said in a undertone to Harry. "My sister. She's been talking about you all summer."*

The wall stopped showing his memories, the real ones. Harry was appalled. Vernon had done that to him? Someone knew, and made him go back there anyway? Ron and Fred and George had watched? And they had never said anything to him? But, no, thank god that last on couldn't be true, because Fred or George would have told him, and the person had said he was going to oblivate them too. The problem was, he thought he knew who the voice was. But it couldn't be. Because if it was, someone he had once trusted, very strongly, would have lied to him, and betrayed him.

He sat there, on his bed, with this new information making his mind real. Snape had been right after all, it did change things he thought about himself. He hadn't needed to know that, and now that he did know, he wished he hadn't asked Hermione to do that.

He sat there for who knows how long, mind spinning in all directions, and every time he remembered that slight bit of pleasure, he felt like he was going to vomit, and he hatred himself a bit more. Was that why he was gay#? Because he had had that done as a kid and liked it? Oh god, why did he have to ask Hermione to find the spell for him.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door, interrupting Harry from his spiralling thoughts.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah, it's been over an hour. Most memories aren't that long, Harry. The book said it should take thirty minutes, tops."

"I'm fine. I'll come to the common room in a minute."

Harry swallowed, -fuck, just moving in certain ways now seemed totally obscene to him- and unlocked the door, and sat with Ron and Hermione. He couldn't even look at them. Hermione, because he was starting to transfer his anger to her, though he knew it wasn't fair, he asked her to perform the spell. He couldn't look at Ron, because weather or not he remembered it, he had seen him being fucked by his uncle. Thank god Fred and George no longer went to the school.

But he still wanted to know who had put the spell on him in the first place. If it had just been laid out, maybe Harry could have healed, and Him and Ron would have been ok. But now, it was like a festering wound on Harry's soul. He found himself avoiding Ron a bit, every time he saw Ron, he remembered, but he still cared deeply for him, so he couldn't stay away too long.

And that was another problem. Because no one, muggle or witch or wizard knew why people were gay, nature, or nurture, or gentics, though there were many theories. But, if Harry couldn't be told you're gay because your genetics made it so, he began to think he was only gay because his first sexual experience was with a man. And he hated it, absolutely hated thinking of it, so if sex had made him gay, and hated the sex, maybe he shouldn't be gay.# So before this spell, Harry had been close to telling Ron his feelings, seeing if he reciprocated. But now, he couldn't. Ron was a wonderful person, Harry shouldn't touch him with his contaminated body. And what if he wasn't even gay? Damn whoever hadn't told him, and hadn't given him those 4 years to figure things out about himself.

Then, one day, the Bloody Baron had started to harass Professor Binns, and he wasn't able to make it to class. Harry and the rest of Gryffindor class ended up being taught History by Professor Dumbledore. After sitting there for a few minutes, Harry recognised the voice. It just suddenly snapped in. he stood up, screamed "I hate you!" then ran out of the room. Dumbledore knew what it was about, and didn't respond, didn't follow Harry out of the room, or apoligise. He did what he thought was best, and it couldn't be changed.

Harry was shocked, and sad. His entire life being ruined was because of Dumbledore. He got Sirius killed, at least as much as Harry did, got his parents killed, by making them join the Order, got him put with Vernon in the first place, and wrecked his love life, by making sure that he could never be with Ron without thinking of what happened. Harry hated Dumbledore, and he would never listen to him again.

# just to let the reader(you) know, that isn't my theory on gay people at all. I do, however, unfortunately know what runs through the minds of gay raped people. So, therefore, I know it's realistic, even if I don't agree with it.


End file.
